


the morning after

by perdue



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/pseuds/perdue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bedtime banter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the morning after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShyPumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyPumpkin/gifts).



> this is a ficlet i'm gifting to both shypumpkin and my friend minerva
> 
> (see pumpkin i told you i'd get to that drabble eventually!)

“Dave,” he whispers into your back. You’re only half-awake and the other half isn’t particularly keen on joining the first.

“Mmfmm,” you grumble back.

“Do you think when we move in together, we can just sleep together like this?”

Your breath stutters a bit as you exhale through your nose, and you feel your chest seize. He’s always so fucking forward and he has no clue what it does to you. Or maybe he does and he just says things like that because he knows it’ll get a reaction. Fucking perfect little asshole.

You shift over so you’re lying on your back, and John takes your gaze even though he’s not wearing his glasses and probably can barely see you.

“No shit, John, what did you think was gonna happen?”

“I don’t know, I was just making sure. Sheesh.” He grins and his hand reaches out and brushes the bangs out of your eyes. “Better cut your hair. You’ll look like Rose if you let it get any longer.” You swat his hand away.

“The family resemblance isn’t that strong, dumbass.” You stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds before adding in a cutting voice, “Besides, wouldn’t it be better if I looked like Rose? At least then there would be some semblance of normalcy to this relationship.”

John doesn’t even hesitate; he just starts blowing raspberries on your stomach, and you yelp once before managing to clasp a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, wriggling and trying not to laugh. As soon as you’re wheezing and begging through clenched teeth for him to stop, other hand pushing at his head, he laughs a little and crawls up so that your faces are level, removes your hand from your mouth and kisses you.

“What possibly gave you the idea that I want to have any semblance of normalcy in this relationship?” he says with a grin, and another short kiss. “I’m in love with number one dorky coolkid Dave Strider. The weirder the better. I’m the prankster king, Dave, I think I can handle it.”

“I thought your dad was the prankster king.”

“What? No way. I’m totally the prankster king. It’s me.”

You grin into his lips and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Yeah, whatever. Nerd.”

“Dave, it isn’t nice to talk to yourself like that.”

“Pfft.”


End file.
